At this time tomorrow, I plan to be on the road, driving east.

After a pretty crazy couple of months of essentially non-stop work at the day job and very little fiction writing, my lovely wife convinced me to take a writer's retreat. I've been stressed out and a bit grumpy, which is a bad combination, and I haven't had time off work since our trip to the mountains in December (which in itself was all too short).

So I'm heading to Ocracoke! I'm taking a printout of my baseball novel, which I've been thinking about a lot lately, knowing I can make it much better (it's all about the characters, I realized, not the plot, thanks to reading Russo's Nobody's Fool; as in, I don't need MORE plot, just deeper characters).

My plan is to leave early, drive down the Outer Banks to Hatteras, hop on the ferry to the island, and hang out on the beach as much as possible. And hit Howards Pub and the Jolly Roger (the latter was the site of many scenes in my paranormal romance novel, which I'm bringing a couple extra copies of to be delivered to the island bookstore). Maybe I'll run into Blackbeard's ghost while I'm chilling out.

I'm feeling pangs of guilt about leaving Elizabeth and Drew, but I know I shouldn't (I also feel weird about going on a vacation by myself, but hey, it's a retreat, right?). Sometimes we all need to get away from the house (and the computer and the to-do list).

I was gonna bring a laptop, but finally decided against it. Just my book, along with Nobody's Fool (a wonderful book that's inspiring me greatly), and maybe a copy of Raymond Carver's Where I'm Calling From and Michael Bishop's baseball novel Brittle Innings (if I have room).

It should be great. And I know it's much-needed. Later!